Kill Me, Heal Me
by candyks
Summary: Five years after the Second Wizarding War AU. Things are not happening quite as expected for both Hermione and Draco. A new law binds them together, ruining their plans for the future. And when old and new enemies combine, will Hermione and Draco do the same to protect all they hold dear?
1. Truth

Three things awakened Hermione from her deep sleep. The loud thunder that cracked through the rainy night. The boisterous booming laugh which Fred, or was it George, emitted from upstairs. And the slight shivering moves happening under the warm heavy covers of her bed.

"Harry, what are you doing in my bed?'' Her raspy, filled with sleep voice was ignored, as the cold body in her bed turned to the other side. The witch tried to get to a sitting position, but her vision blackened entirely, she squeezed her eyes shut and sighed. The fatigue had still not left her body. Things were getting pretty out of hand with her position in the Department of Mysteries.

After a bit more twitching and turning Harry poked out his head from under the covers. His dark hair was as messy is it could come, there were no glasses covering his features and the dark circles under his eyes made him look a lot older than he appeared.

"Ginny is mad at me," his looked so fragile with his puppy dog eyes pointed at the ceiling. Hermione didn't really want to deal with this right now, not with the tragic end of her last mission still fresh in her mind. But Harry was her best friend and as always she was ready to help him with anything. That's why even though the pounding pain in her head, she turned towards him, put her elbow on her pillow and leaned her head midair into her palm.

"She is pregnant, Harry, it's normal for her to have constant mood swings,'' Hermione tried to calmly explain to Harry. Boys will always be boys and her Harry and Ron were no exceptions, as it was proven to her so many times over the last decade of their friendship.

"It's...it's not that this time,'' he turned to lay on his stomach and nuzzled his face into Hermione's second pillow that she kept in her bed just in case of similar encounters whether it was Ron crying over his last breakup, Fred feeling lonely as George gets a new girlfriend and vice versa, or just Ginny trying to have a girly chat with her.

It was almost funny how many people have slept in her bed and none of them was part of her love life. A real proof that it was rather nonexistent. That was definitely a lot more alarming than most of the discussions held on her bed.

"She wants to continue playing Quidditch until her fifth or sixth month.''

Hermione almost missed it due to his voice being muffled by the pillow. She understood his worries. It was the health of their child and more importantly the health of Ginny on the line. If something happened to either of them, Harry would not forgive himself. But she also understood Ginny's side on the matter. It was her career, she had been building it for years, and she wouldn't let it go so easily, even if it wasn't for long. Although Hermione perfectly knew how much two years absence meant for sport, especially such as Quidditch.

But before she started speaking, Harry was already fast asleep.

Hermione sighed and laid on her back, looking at the intricate details on the ceiling. Sirius's house definitely had its own signature. When Hermione first set a foot in it couple of years back, she was somewhat mesmerised, although it was the house of the notorious Black family and some of the air and the objects in the house were almost bent on brutally remaining her of her muggle lineage, she still found it extremely spellbinding. As a witch with non-magical parents it was always interesting for her the homes of the Wizarding families. The little compelling details, the magic flowing effortlessly around the air of the house, the spectral secrets hidden in various places. The only magical home she had ever been for a longer period of time was The Burrow. And she loved it there.

It took a great deal of time and magic to restore it after the war, but it was worth it. She and Harry still especially loved going there for the holidays. Molly had offered them multiple times to live there, but they refused every single time. Harry wanted to spend more time with Sirius and felt more at home at 12 Grimmauld Place, and Hermione... Well, Hermione felt obligated to be with Ron if she decided to stay there and they both knew from personal experience that it wouldn't work. So, she was initially bent on buying herself a little cozy apartment until Harry found out about her intentions.

Hermione still remembered his heartbroken sullen expression as if she was leaving them, turning her back on their friendship. She knew that if she decided to move away, their friendship was going to suffer to the point where they would be seeing each other once or twice per year. With her time-consuming job as an Unspeakable and Harry's as an Auror it was a clear indication it would happen. But she didn't want to be a burden, everybody had to continue on their own path.

It took a great deal of 'negotiations', as Harry referred to them, to persuade her to remain at 12 Grimmauld Place, even Sirius took participation in them. The only reason she said yes, was due to the nature of her job, she was constantly absent and buying a flat for the sole purpose of just having a place to crash in for a few nights a week, was really kind of illogical.

So this is how she ended up living here for almost five years already.

Hermione sometimes thought she was overstaying her welcome, but when she didn't go back for a week or more, Sirius and Harry were starting to get worried and owled her frequently. Or when a-gone-terribly-wrong mission happened and turned her into a shell of a person, Sirius would go up to her room, offer her a warm and sweet beverage and talk about all the crazy days he, Remus, James and Peter had. Maybe she wasn't that unwelcomed or maybe they were just as broken up after the war as she was.

Hermione sighed and turned again in the bed, she couldn't fall asleep. She decided that if she continued with the constant spinning around, she would eventually wake Harry up, so she threw her covers on the empty space between her and Harry and got up.

The brown haired witch put a red satin robe over her scarce nightwear, she pulled her frizzy hair in a high bushy ponytail and quietly left the room.

As she was walking down the stairs, she willed herself not to think of the latest problems in her job. Hermione needed a bit of a clear mind and a rest, and the only way she usually managed to accomplish it was with a cup of hot milk and an intriguing book. That's why she headed to the kitchen, but soon stop abruptly when she saw the slight light emitted from the gap under the door, which was a pretty clear indication that someone was in the kitchen. And judging by the silencing spell casted on the room, there for sure wasn't only one person.

The witch contemplated whether to enter or not. But decided to do it, she wasn't the nosy little girl anymore capable of only eavesdropping, she was a grown up woman capable of understanding the complicity of different types of information. Well, she did hope whomever was in there, they weren't talking about something in their private lives, then her entrance would be just plain rude.

But before she could even grip the door handle, the door was unexpectedly opened and a woman around Hermione's height with bubble pink hair adoring her features greeted her wholeheartedly.

The hug she received from Nymphadora Tonks was both heartwarming and literally breathtaking.

"I haven't seen you for such a long time," the pink haired witch released her and stepped back to observe her. "You are becoming more and more beautiful the older you get.''

"Thank you,'' Hermione blushed. "Same could be said for you too.'' That woman already had two children and still looked as fit as the first day she saw her.

"Don't forget that I am a Metamorphmagus, dear.'' Nymphadora whispered to her quietly followed by a wink and turned around when a polite male cough was heard.

"It's rare to see you anymore, Hermione.'' Remus Lupin shook her hand and grinned at the young witch. The scar on his face made him look even more sincere if that was possible.

"She has left me and Harry to survive on our own here, Remus,'' Sirius put his arm on his heart and desperately closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Such a drama queen, this boy," Nymphadora whispered next to her and they both laughed, as the older witch led her into the room as Remus followed behind them, closing the door shut.

Sirius was siting in his seat at the end of the long table, a half empty crystal cup of fire whiskey stood in front of him. His long black hair was messily pulled in some kind of a bun on the back of his head, a few fallen locks were gently brushing his sharp cheekbones. He was such a dramatic force to be reckoned with. The slightly oversized purple shirt, was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest, revealing some of his tattoos and it's sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos. He reminded her of...

It didn't matter.

They talked about this and that for a while. How were the children, how was the life going, Ginny and the baby, the prospering family business - Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which Fred, George and Ron were running, the tons of work at the Ministry of Magic and so on. It made Hermione relax, which has not happened for a long time, but then the Question was asked.

"Who is the lucky man, Hermione?'' Remus put the glass of water on the table and looked at her with a flicker of hope in his eyes. He always wished everybody the best, there weren't many people like him left in this wrecked world. But only if he knew.

"It could be a woman, Remus, don't be a prude.'' Sirius jokingly bristled.

"I don't really think he would call himself lucky.'' The young witch sighed.

The letter had arrived two days ago. The moment she saw the glowing black seal of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Hermione knew her destiny was doomed. The only comfort to her was that her position didn't really leave her a lot free time, which she would have otherwise spend with her new 'husband'.

After the Second Wizarding War and the colossal number of casualties during it, the Wizarding community in Britain faced a massive birth rate collapse accompanied with even more shocking shortage of young children. The wizards hadn't really thought it beforehand how much children have become victims to the war, until the facts and the numbers shocked them altogether.

Then the bloody law was passed in and every witch and wizard from age of twenty five to forty five, who were not engaged, married, lonely parent or pregnant, was endangered of becoming one of those unwillingly. It was a complete chaos.

The Heredes Law it was called.

Pureblood families were enraged but due to the fact that most of them were on the dark side in the war, they had no word in the voting. Which led to hundreds of letters being sent to numerous witches and wizards binding them together unwillingly.

Hermione did think of Ron the moment she heard about the voting of the new law, but that would have meant to steal his chance of happiness or meeting a woman, who would love him truly and dearly. She couldn't deprive him of a happy future, so when the declaration of status arrived at her desk the other morning, she underlined 'unbounded' and prayed to be selected someone compatible through the algorithm the Ministry has come up with, and with whom she would be able to build a nice future with or at least for their children. Not that the young witch wanted children at this moment in her life.

But she definitely hadn't braced herself for the crushing revelation that followed when the envelope, which contained the name of her future spouse, arrived.

 _Malfoy, Draco Lucius_

The young witch had experienced quite a lot of shocks in her lifetime, but this one came as too much even for her.

This was surely some kind of a poor joke! It was impossible, they weren't compatible. At all.

' _Filthy mudblood!'_ His words still ringed in her conscience, the hatred hidden deep in herself escalating. Although she had forgiven him long time ago, she still couldn't forget that monstrous night, when Bellatrix Lestrange branded her for life. Dirtied her.

He was as guilty as innocent in some aspects, but no matter what, he remained a traitor in her mind.

"It's not a problem if you don't want to tell us yet.'' Nymphadora brought her back to the reality, when she put her warm hand on Hermione's tensed shoulder.

She then looked at her husband and Sirius to urge them to say something. But before either of them could tell a thing, Hermione took a deep breath and braced her future.

"Malfoy,'' she looked at them with a gaze as hard as stone. "My spouse-to-be is Draco Lucius Malfoy.''

"Why?'' They all jumped when they heard Harry's voice and turned to the door. Hermione couldn't even look him in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me, Hermione?''

He looked so genuinely hurt, that it made it difficult for the young witch to breathe.

 _Because she was scared._

She was scared that she would lose him and Ron.

Hermione was scared of the abandonment, the rejection, the loneliness.


	2. Mystery

"We'll get through this, 'Mione," Harry murmured against the crevice of her neck, while hugging her tightly more for his comfort and reassurance than for hers. The young witch sighed and ran her delicate fingers through his messy hair.

Remus and Nymphadora had long ago left the house, but Harry still remained next to her, clutching her petite body against his. His worry was growing as he watched the tired expression on her face. Harry's biggest concern wasn't that it was Draco Malfoy, after the war they've come up to some kind of peace with each other. Harry didn't quite believe him on the trial when Draco announced that he was a 'changed' man. But he did believe that he would try to be. They all saw where their point of view led them in the end of the war. For Harry, it was the pureblood society in which Draco had grown up and was constantly around him even now, that made him scared for Hermione's well-being as Malfoy's wife.

To be honest, Draco turned out to be quite civilised and well mannered man. Maybe it was due to witnessing the crumbling of all that his family had believed in, and the almost imprisonment in Azkaban they managed to avoid,

"Well, at least you would not be missing in the money department." Sirius said matter-of-factly, lips pulled in a not so secret small smile.

"You're insufferable, Sirius,'' Harry groaned, but started laughing nonetheless.

"Be careful with the blindingly blond babies one day, Malfoy's blood is a bit, how to put it,'' he scratched his chin, "domineering in a way.'' His smirk was enough for both Harry and Hermione to groan and roll their eyes.

"Oh, for God's sake, Sirius, would you please shut up," Hermione tried to remain impassive, but they all knew that it was just a facade.

"You should ask him to grow his hair longer, Lucius is definitely pulling it rather nicely," the mischievous glint in his dark grey eyes made him look younger.

"I'm going to hex you, seriously.'' Harry was already laughing with tears in his eyes, who knew what other nonsense was going around his mind. He grabbed the young witch's hand to help her out of the chair and they both went for the door.

"Well, I'm serious,'' he wriggled his eyebrows and Harry quickly closed the door, Sirius' booming laughter still ringing in their ears as they were climbing the stairs to their rooms.

Hermione was extremely thankful that the twins had fallen asleep and hadn't come to check what was happening in the kitchen. She knew that Sirius was trying to lift up the mood and she really appreciated it. Hermione was going to miss them. Very, very badly.

She wished Harry a quick good night and went into her room. The moment she laid down and smelled herself on the pillow, Hermione was fast asleep.

The following day was definitely not her lucky day.

As Hermione strode through one of the dark corridors in the Department of Mysteries, she couldn't help but feel the way her body was a bit more sluggish due to the continuous lack of sleep. Three or four hours sleep at night for a month was enough to make her efficiency at work questionable. And she did not like that for a bit.

And the fact that this morning she almost got late for work was truly finishing her off. Hermione did not go anywhere late, her job was done with never ending enthusiasm. Professionalism was what she required of herself daily.

To make matters even worse, the humid weather outside made her hair even frizzier than normal. Hermione wasn't the girl to worry about outer appearance, but she had her days. Nobody wanted to look like an enormous ball of hair rolling around their workspace. It was simply embarrassing. And Hermione did not do embarrassing.

Her perfectionism was going to be the end of her.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Augustus Frostware is requiring your presence in the Death Chamber. Apparently it is an emergency.'' A short old man with greyish hair stopped her mid stride and offered her a scroll tied with a glowing white ribbon.

The young witch immediately took it from him, but before she could express her gratitude, he vanished. She changed the direction of her stroll to the ninth floor, where the Death Chamber was located.

Hermione untied the ribbon with a quick spell and opened the scroll. It was the usual debrief of some of the restored time-turners from the Time Chamber. It was kept in secret that a small group of Unspeakables, who were studying time, appointed by the Head of the Department of Mysteries, were working on restoring them or at least saving as many parts as possible for future prototypes.

Hermione looked at the three rotating forms of time-turners on the parchment she was holding. Two of them was gold and one was black. She closed the scroll, sealed it and put it in the inner pocket of her black long coat for further throughout inspection when she had more time.

The massive black double door was as intimidating as ever and Hermione felt the cold shivers running through her body even before she opened the door and entered. No matter how many times she set foot the Chamber of Death, the chills it gave her were the same as the first time she entered it together with Harry, their fellow Dumbledore's army members and the Order of the Phoenix. It still reminded her how they almost lost Sirius back then.

The young witch shook her head, pushing the painful memories deep in her mind. But the sight that welcomed Hermione in the rectangular dimly lit room took her breath away. About twenty Unspeakables were walking around the ancient stone archway in the middle of the room.

The Veil.

A tattered black curtain which serves as a physical portal separating the worlds of the living and the dead. It was said that some people can hear the voices of the dead from behind the Veil, depending upon how much one believes in an afterlife.

But right now there was an epiphany of screaming and begging voices. Hermione covered her ears as a female shriek cut through the still and cold air in the room. What the bloody hell was happening?

The floor and stone benches around the Veil were covered in a dark red liquid, presumably blood. Although there wasn't any metallic note in the air that she could smell of.

"It's not blood,'' she knew that deep male timbre by heart. "It looks like it but it neither smells nor tastes like a blood would.''

When she turned around, the infamous glowing icy blue eyes of Augustus Frostware greeted her. The tall man was a spectacularly gifted and intelligent wizard in his late thirties, whom Hermione admired deeply. Being the first Death Unspeakables to have ever step foot through and out of the Veil, and an ex-Auror, he was one of the best wizards to have ever worked in the Department of Mysteries. The white haired man was something akin to a legend in the eyes of the newly trained Unspeakables. Before the trials of choosing her field of work as an Unspeakable, he was the wizard appointed to test her if Hermione was capable of becoming a Death Unspeakable. Frostware gave her such a detailed and priceless knowledge about death from the substantial differences of it between the magical and non-magical world to the foundations of the afterlife, Hermione never knew she'd be so keen on studying death and its limitless boundaries.

Almost a shame she ended up as a Time Unspeakable in the end, but she was more then pleased to help, when he required her presence in some of their cases. Such as this one.

Therefore if Augustus Frostware couldn't perceive what had happened here, then some serious problems were bound to follow.

"And the voices?'' Hermione turned back towards the Veil. Gosh, they were maddening.

"They can be heard by everybody. We checked. It's as if the barrier has become thinner.'' Straux Boulboline passed by them and made a gesture with her hand to follow her. "We think somebody managed to cross the portal into our world. With help from here, of course.''

"The interesting part is that nobody has entered the chamber in the past twenty-four hours. And respectively, nobody has gotten out of it.'' Frostware's savagely murderous look was enough for Hermione to almost pity the poor soul whom upon Augustus Frostware was to unleash his rage and hunt down.

"And there is absolutely no way to extract a dead soul from the Veil without personally being here.'' Hermione bent down to get a closer look of the red liquid.

"Precisely!'' Boulboline ran long fingers through her grey hair then rubbed her temples to ease the upcoming headache and barked orders to some of the other Unspeakables, who were inspecting the different parts of the chamber for some clues on who might have done it and how.

"I don't think it was a wizard or a being with magical abilities.'' Hermione told Frostware once they were out of the Death chamber, heading towards his office, where they could dig out some old perhaps useful information, which would be able to give them at least a direction. Before they had to report it all to the Ministry of Magic. He gave her a quick glance and nodded his head affirmatively.

"Unfortunately, Miss Boulboline doesn't share the same belief.''

Hermione understood what he meant by that. What would wizards think about a Muggle who managed to wriggle their way into the Department of Mysteries? And more importantly, how did it happened under the nose of the Head of the said department? Boulboline's reputation would be ruined in a blink of an eye. Also with her being a half-blood witch, it could possibly lead to a perfectly planned violent encounters between the different societies in the Wizarding community.

When Hermione thought about it, it was actually quite the brilliant plan. And in a well thought plans, there were always more than one step to follow for it to do its purpose correctly.

Which narrowly meant one thing.

"This is just the beginning, Miss Granger.'' The young witch wasn't so sure if the sharklike grin which spread on his sharp features was indication of excitement that something big was bound to happen or he just liked the idea to hunt down those who did him or the Department of Mysteries wrong.

Hermione had the strange gut feeling that the case in the Death chamber wouldn't be the last for the day. And how right it was.

The moment Frostware opened his office's door there was a soft ticking noise and everything erupted in purple flames. They both drew out their wands in matter of seconds, shielding themselves, but the flames went out as fast as they lighted up. Leaving only ash and four bare walls.

Well, it was not a muggle intervention this time, that's for sure.

Everything they could have uses had disappeared. Turned to tons of ash. Frostware had ordered to bring to his office most of the written knowledge about Death and the Death Chamber from the Department of Mysteries' archives.

That was a precisely calculated attack.

Whomever was doing this, whomever the plan belonged to, they were definitely more than a few steps ahead. Right now every decision that was about to be made, every step that was about to be ordered, all of it was already included in the different scenarios in which the plan could develop.

Behind of it stood someone with a remarkably genius mindset, someone who wanted to make a change, someone who...

Knew magic, but couldn't practise it.

Who worked with both wizards and muggles and had the resources for it, because those purple flames, the 'Ieiunium Flammae' powder, were usually used in Alchemy. And it was expensive. Alchemy wasn't a common fling people get to start studying it and to dismiss it once the interest had passed. It was the type of ancient science, which the more you study it, the more it opens your eyes, leading to an obsessive desire for more and more knowledge.

Hermione knew only one person, who have been studying it pronouncedly for years, and was actually good at Italy's and with their whole mind intact. Or so the rumours said. Too bad it was the last person, whom she would ask for a favour. And whom she avoided as if the plague was on her tail.

The young witch really did not want to see Draco Malfoy so soon after that bloody letter, which announced him as her future spouse. The only thing that got her going with her life was the fact she had decided to ignore it for several more weeks at least. But apparently fate had different plans for her. And no matter how much Hermione wanted to dismiss the idea of going to him, her work was far more important than her immature self defence impulses, so she had no other choice, but to go to the snake's lair.


	3. Purpura

"No, I do not have a letter of invitation,'' Hermione rolled her eyes for the sixth time, the Purpura House expectedly being as inviting as ever.

It was darkly ominous house, famous for its purple crystal-like glowing domes and gold window ornamentation, the house itself was big enough to pass for a manor in Hermione's dictionary. It accommodated all related practices to Alchemy, from potion rooms to long halls of archives, collected through the centuries, to personal offices of distinguished Alchemists. And, of course, the Purpura House was best known for being the central headquarter where the notorious Alchimia Club's members gathered weekly.

So here she was, in front of the main double door of the house, wasting twenty minutes of her time to speak to this immature wizard they called...wait, what did he say his position was? Secretary, servant, lackey? Hermione never looked down on people especially on their jobs, she was not the type of person to do this. But when abuse of authority was happening right under her nose, that was an entire different matter. She was not in the mood for some squishy looking teenage wizard to pretend like he does rules for a living.

Hermione had pulled the Ministry of Magic card, it didn't work. The Department of Mysteries card, still didn't work. The of-great-importance card, no luck there either. In moments like these, she really did not like the secret nature of her job. If she was here to do a bloody investigation of the place, she would have previously required a search warrant and turn the whole place upside down. But she merely wished to speak to...

Oh, it was time to pull a new card.

"I am here to visit my husband,'' she smirked, knowing perfectly well this time victory was approaching.

"Attendance hours are not due for,'' the blond boy looked at his magical watch. What was this, a prison? "Another two hours, precisely."

Nope, that was it, she was pulling her wand.

But the moment she guided her hand towards her inner pocket, a strong arm forcefully grabbed her elbow, pulling her backwards against a solid body.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience, Gellard, the irascible side of _my_ _wife'_ s personality is easily triggered,'' When did Malfoy's voice become so deep? And how long had he been standing there, before he decided to interfere? "We are working on keeping it at bay, aren't we, darling?" If he was really a snake, huge amount of venom would be dripping down his mouth while he asked her the question. Hermione gritted her teeth and turned her face around to look him in the eyes and smile with no less venom.

"Of course, honey,'' the young witch hissed in his face, she was going to kill him. Slowly and painfully.

"Oh, there is no need for apologies, Mister Malfoy, I did not know she referred to You as her husband." The boy, Gellard, bowed down his head slightly.

"Ah, it's quite a habit of hers to do that,'' _but people did not know of her as my wife_ , was the omitted mocking sentence which Malfoy decided to keep just between them.

The blond-haired wizard gave his thanks to the boy and pulled the witch inside the house. This game he started, could be played by two, and Hermione had no intention of losing.

He did not release the grip on her elbow during the whole walk to his office. There was going to be a hand-shaped bruise, but Hermione couldn't care less. When they entered, he removed his coat and magically floated it to the tall wooden hanger at the office's corner. He did not offer to hang her coat as well. They both knew she wasn't going to stay long enough.

Draco sat down behind his dark mahogany desk filled with various types of scrolls, papers and small artefacts.

"You can sit, Granger, the poor chair is not going to attack you," he smirked, referring to an incident at Hogwarts. But Hermione wasn't so sure if it was just an incident or a well done hex from Malfoy anymore. She looked at him sceptically but took a seat, crossed her ankles and put the folder on her lap.

Hermione wasn't so sure anymore why she had come. Contemplating every sentence under the scrutiny of his gaze was not her preferred method of work. But in the name of her job, she could manage it. She was the brightest witch of their age, she wouldn't not be intimidated by a traitor nonetheless.

"Cat got your tongue, Granger, it sure didn't look like it when you introduced yourself as my wife," she would wipe that stupid handsome smirk off his face even if it was the last thing she would do.

"If I remember correctly, you did not express any allegation against the claim, Malfoy, you could have simply ignored it and went past us.''

"And miss your humiliation?" He dared laugh at her. A goner. That was he. "It doesn't work like that."

"But I did not say _you_ are my husband." He opened his mouth to counterattack, but she flipped her hand through the air in indication that she didn't want to keep going with this nonsense. She would not hear another word from him that was not work related. "I faced a quite interesting case today.'' Hermione opened the first file and put it on the desk facing him. Only brief parts of the whole incident with the powder were written down accompanied with some close magical photographs of the remaining ash in the poor state in which the cabinet has been left after the flames. "It would be of great help if you cooperate and share your knowledge about origins, potential seller and buyers, the making of the Ieiunium Flammae powder, ingredients, methods, everything.''

Draco raised his eyebrows and looked up closely at the photograph, he then started reading the report on the other paper.

"It's written that the ash has a metallic type of dark colour, but when you look at it,'' he handed her the photograph, "it's actually silver.''

Hermione took it and brought it closely to her face. Malfoy was right, it really was the colour of pure silver. She raised her eyebrow and put the photograph back on the table. Maybe she wouldn't regret her decision to come to him.

"It's an indication that the ingredients, which were used to brew it, were of the purest quality. And the transformation of potion to powder is extremely well measured and done especially if you took notice of how clean the ash was. Whomever did this, they are definitely competent with all the branches of magic. And wealthy as well, for sure, due to the rare and expensively extravagant notion of the ingredients, and for some of them you would need certain connections. Which means either a pureblood of one of the sacred families or a really old wizard.'' Draco smirked, glad he unraveled the mystery. Hermione almost rolled her eyes. Men and their ego.

"We have already figured out that a group of both wizards and muggles stand behind the attacks. But let's say the enigma behind all of it is most certainly either a squib or a muggle with magical relations in their family.''

Draco looked at her for a moment, he uncrossed his legs and moved closer to the desk, putting his elbows on it, fingers intertwined.

"Are you saying that there is more to the whole story than the demolished cabinet of one of your colleagues, Granger?''

"Don't look so happy about it, Malfoy.'' Hermione smirked and inclined her head towards him as if she was going to tell a secret. "And don't go sniffing around the Ministry, we simply don't answer to them.''

Draco licked his lips, his storming grey eyes flashed as if a lightening had struck.

"It'd be a shame if they so unexpectedly happened to know by the end of the day.'' Oh, how much she wished to smack that wolfish smile away from his bloody face.

"Don't play with fire, Malfoy. You burned once and we wouldn't want that to happen again now, would we?'' Hermione gabbed the files from the desk, but before she could even lift them, Draco grabbed her right wrist.

"You know more of this than you're willing to tell even your team. Yes, wizards don't operate like this, but such a powder is too powerful to be made of non-magic hands.'' Hermione contemplated the notion of ignoring him, but some part of her brain short circuited apparently, because she bent down towards him and growled in his face.

"You have no idea what kind of people walk this earth, no idea what they are capable of, the drastic lengths they are willing to go to. You may still think that we as a magical beings are superior, but you have no outlook on how much more advanced muggle societies have become.'' Hermione roughly pulled her hand away from his. This was getting out of hands.

Draco stood up, putting both his hands on the desk. The curly-haired witch didn't remember him being so tall, it was actually intimidating. And his hair has gotten longer, the tips of it were brushing against his broad shoulders, its white-blond colour was in full contrast with the dark green material of his shirt. He has definitely grown up since his last trial. They all have in fact, but seeing her friends constantly, it was quite strenuous to notice the changes.

"I'll see what I can find about the powder,'' in his mind Draco had already created a list of people to visit, who either sell some of the used ingredients or have information about who might have gone around the markets, looking for these particular rare components. "I will owl you as soon as I find something.'' He bent down and opened one of the small drawers under his desk. Draco fished out some papers and put them on the desk.

"I'm not signing these right now, Malfoy.'' Hermione hissed at the Malfoy Marriage Contract that was looking at her from the desk.

"Nobody is making you sign them right now, Granger. Take it with you, review it and when you are done, owl it back to me.'' The brown-haired witch really couldn't believe how calm he was about the whole situation revolving around the Heredes Law.

To be honest, Hermione expected him to be a lot more verbal and brutal about it than she had been, especially when she opened the letter for the first time. She was more than aware of the hatred purebloods had for people like her as the gruesome derogatory term spelled on her arm perfectly conjured it. There was something fishy happening, usually she would have been a lot more persistent about it, but her work here was currently done and she was in no way a fool to outstay her welcome in Malfoy's presence. The questions could wait some more.

Hermione nodded her head and grabbed the contract. As she was on her way to the door, Draco called out.

"Owl me if you find something new or crucial about the Ieiunium Flammae.'' The indecency of him to not even form it as a question, was enough for Hermione to snap back.

"I am no information desk, Malfoy." She was already at the door, her hand on the handle. "And in no way does this case affects you directly at the moment for me to share further details with you.''

"It certainly does when my wife is involved in it." Hermione turned around and looked at him. He was still looming over the desk, but his hands were no longer palm-pressed on it, they were clinched in fists. The white knuckles beneath his pale skin were too prominent.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"None of your concern.'' The brown-haired witch shrugged and opened the door. Next stop was level two of the Ministry of Magic, the Auror Office.

Hermione had owled Harry before going to the Purpura House to inform him of her visitation later that day. She truly hoped he had some good news for her. The witch sighed, shrank the documents, put them away in one of her coat's pockets and apparated.


	4. Expect

"What do you mean Ginny will be staying in the Burrow for an uncertain period of time,'' the bushy-haired witch narrowed her eyes at Harry.

"Exactly what it means, 'Mione,'' Harry sighed and put his head in his hands. He really screwed it big this time.

"Did you say the child is more important than her career as a Quidditch player?'' The wizard winced and tried to explain himself.

"I didn't say it like that, you know I'm just as obsessed as her with Quidditch! And a Holyhead Harpies fan at that,'' Hermione looked at him sceptically. Nobody wanted to sleep on the couch... He ran his hands through his messy hair as she noted that it had become a bit longer, couple of strands falling in his eyes. A barber is what he needed, that was clear.

"Yes, but there is an enormous difference between being a fan of the sport and an actual professional player of it.''

"I've been playing it long before she even started,'' he tried to defend his 'man' honour and the witch tried her best not to roll her eyes.

"But she has continued long after you stopped,'' Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly, knowing he was just a nice and a bit overprotective husband especially when it came to his pregnant wife.

"I'm just worried for her, I know there are many potions, which could help her, but she is putting herself in an unnecessary risk.''

"It's not an unnecessary risk for her, Harry,'' The witch tried to assure him. "It's her job. You're putting yourself at risk constantly by being an Auror. Ginny could easily be mad at you for trying to leave a fatherless child behind if something happened to you during one of your missions.''

Harry contemplated the said, he knew Hermione had her point, but he still couldn't stop worrying for his wife's and their child's health. And Ginny had punished him for it by going back to her parents. Merlin's beard, she was going to Berlin in a couple of days. What if he didn't see her before that?

"I know you'll be going to the Weasleys tonight, so stop overthinking it for now,''

"Said the biggest overthinker I've ever met,'' Harry laughed, making Hermione roll her eyes at him.

"I am quite sure that's not even a word, Harry,'' she looked sternly at him, but they both knew she was silently laughing on the inside. "If Oliver hears about your problem, he'll-''

"-go mad, I know. I'm sure half of her fan letters are from the bloke. And their repulsive sweet smell, ugh, disgusting. You'd think that Ginny playing for a rivalling team would make him a bit more...bittersweet.'' Hermione raised her eyebrow pointedly as Harry continued laughing at his bad joke, if it could be even called one, "I still remember the lad's expression in third year, when he found out McGonagall had taken the Firebolt Sirius sent me, simply unforgettable.''

Hermione really wanted to laugh but the guilt overcame the urge.

"I'm sorry, Harry, for back then,'' the witch didn't want to look him in the eyes right now, feeling as a hypocrite for lecturing him about worrying about Ginny's health and forgetting about her true passion for Quidditch, when she did the same few years back.

But then she heard a quiet snickering coming from the wizard.

"You did this on purpose,'' she looked at him unbelievably as Harry winked at her from behind his glasses.

"Blimey, 'Mione,'' Harry looked at the witch innocently. "You accusing a bloke of trying to have a good laugh here?''

"Well, you know exactly why I am here for,'' Hermione sighed and took out the reports from her coat's inner pocket and dropped them on his desk.

"You've got to be kidding me, we just brought in another 'gang' of death-eaters, spare me a breath, would you," Harry groaned and closed his eyes wishing for when he opens them the reports would have vanished.

"When you finish reading it, you would wish I had sent you after more death-eaters.'' Harry just shook his head and opened the first report.

As the wizard continued reading, Hermione thought how if the times were different such classified reports would have never been seen from other non-Unspeakable wizards. It was practically taboo in their Department, she would have definitely been fired. Imagine Hermione's surprise when Straux Boulboline called her in her office and very pointedly suggested to ask some of her trusted 'friends' for small favours. Baulboline couldn't just go in the Aurors' office and politely ask them to do some investigation in secret. But the brightest witch of their time, part of the Golden trio, however, could ask some of her quite close friends to do it for her. Not that Draco Malfoy was her friend, but the witch was more then sure that Baulboline knew who her future husband was and what he did in his free time.

"'Arry, I've been searchin' everywhere for you, mate!'' Someone disturbed Hermione's thoughts as she quickly turned around and stood face to face an old fellow Hogwarts' student. "'Ermione!''

"Justin, I haven't seen you in years!'' The witch grabbed his outstretched hand, smiling unbelievably. "Are you working in the Ministry?'' His curly hair was shorter and the light stubble on his face made him look more matured.

"Yea, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Obliviator Finch-Fletchley at your services,'' his smiled cheekily and stepped back taking Hermione's appearance. "Are those Unspeakables' clothing I am seeing, Miss Granger?'' The witch laughed and put her arm on top of her chest.

"Hmm, Mister Finch-Fletchley, I think your eyes are playing some tricks on you.'' Hermione looked down at her usual work clothing, all black, of course - a long coat, which she wore when she was outside her Department, stretchy pants tucked into ankle boots, a shirt and a long thin coat-like tunic with two rolls of buttons on each side of her chest going down to her torso and almost invisible golden intricate details around the collar, the sleeves and the shoulders.

It's just her usual everyday garments, it's what her wardrobe consisted of mostly. Hermione did remember however when she was first given the attire and saw the golden patterns indicating her field of study, Time. It was such a great honour for her. All four were represented by different metallic colour - Gold for Time, Bronze for Love, Silver for Thought, Dark Platinum for Death. No other except for Unspeakables knew what each of the colours stands for.

Hermione quite expected for the curly-haired man to start asking question about her job, so she braced herself for quick rejection, but when he made no further indication that he would like to stick his nose in other people's business, the young witch realised that as much as she couldn't believe it, they've truly grown up since their school years.

"My mum owled me thirty minutes ago,'' he turned to Harry, a grim expression on his face. "Apparently there have been series of brutal attacks against muggles. Their government are trying to cover up the cases as fast as they can, but my mum says the attacks couldn't be done by muggles.''

Hermione met Harry's hard gaze. That was planned.

"Well, boys I will let you deal with this, but right now I have a few more tasks at hand.'' The witch quickly grabbed the folders from Harry's hands. "Nice to see you, Justin.'' She gave him a curt nod and before the wizard could even say something she was already at the other end of the corridor.

* * *

"Granger!'' Hermione turned quickly, startled. Frostware was walking towards her, his flapping black coat in full contrast with his white hair and icy eyes. "Where have you been?'' His harsh tone made her want to hide somewhere until the storm has passed.

Before she could even answer he grabbed her upper arm and apparated into Boulboline's office. They usually did not use Apparition in the Department of Mysteries due to the problems that could occur with the delicately complicated magic protecting the mysteries Unspeakables studied.

The Head of the Department wasn't there and Hermione looked at the wizard curiously.

"There's been a breach, Straux was called in the Ministry. Sit.'' Hermione preferred to stand, but decided against it, now was not the time to pull Frostware's nerves any further. She took a seat while he remained standing, hip pressed against the desk, where couple of quills were writing something on various parchments.

"Muggles have been attacked either,'' Hermione rubbed her temples.

"Not just any muggles, Grangers,'' he lit up a cigarette, taking a quick drag. Boulboline was going to kill him. "They were all special forces.'' Hermione could feel the blood draining from her face. "Not their so called 'policemen' or spies, but-''

"Special Task Forces on Wizarding Crimes, yes, I know,'' she nodded. If he was surprised that she knew of them, he did not show it. STAFWC were British secret services units who handled high-risked operations related to Wizarding crimes against muggles in complete secrecy from both the muggle Government and the Ministry If Magic. It contained only highly-trained muggles with no relations to the Wizarding world and no magical abilities. How they trained to handle and kill skilled wizards was unknown, who provided them with weaponry and military armoury was also unknown, who was part of the crews was unknown either. Even the existence of STAFWC was held in such secrecy that only handful of muggles and wizards knew of them. "So this explains why their government is trying so hard to cover up the attacks, because they're against people, whom other muggles see as fellow citizens with normal lives, but if they start digging they'd find is quite e opposite.''

"That is correct, but in the eyes of their government it looks as if we are starting a war with them.'' The grey smoke escaped his lips as he looked at the glass ceiling.

"Just like to our Ministry would look as if they are starting one with us.'' Hermione really had hoped that their previous assumption would be wrong, but everything that had happened pointed the opposite.

"That's why it is of great importance what happened today remains in secret from the Ministry,'' he look at her, holding her gaze as she was about to protest. "Boulboline will be under watch for the next couple of weeks as the whole Department for that matter.''

"But-''

"You have been given a task from her,'' he turned his head towards the desk and grabbed an envelope. "This is mine,'' the black envelope floated right on top her legs. "I accept both of them to be done as expected of you. Be careful whom you consult with,'' the witch stood up as she slipped the envelope into her inner pocket. "Your one week paid leave had been accepted, you will be owled if something else happens in the Department. I expect your report in eight days.'' With a final drag of his cig, he apparated to Merlin knows where.

Hermione sighed and left the office, deciding to focus her attention on the scroll with the time-turners she had received in the morning. The bushy-haired woman couldn't believe it was hours ago, felt more like days.

* * *

"Hermione, dinner is ready,'' Ginny called from behind the door of Hermione's room in Grimmauld place.

Two days had passed since the start of her paid leave, two days of fruitless investigation and frustration, two days of her ignoring the marriage contract on her nightstand next to her bed.

Harry and Ginny made up, she would stay with them until Berlin, Harry initially wanted to take some days off and go with her, but with the current tension between the magical and the non-magical world it was not possible.

There was still no word from Draco, Harry was doing his best in debriefing her with every information possible about the cases as also for the new ones.

"Hermione, did you hear me?'' Ginny walked into her room, hands crossed against her chest as she stood next to Hermione's bed. "Harry is enough for me, but you? I expected more of you, really.'' Hermione sent her a guilty smile, closing the thick report Harry had brought her after work.

"Smells delicious,'' The curly-haired witch offered as she got up from her bed. Ginny rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

"I tried one of my mum's recipes, hope it turned out good.'' She shrugged and made her way towards the door, Hermione following her closely behind.

"Are you kidding me? You're a marvellous cook, Ginny, I know it would be delicious!'' Ginny laughed until her gaze fell upon Hermione's nightstand.

"What's that?'' She pointed towards the marriage contract, but Hermione swiftly pulled the pregnant witch in the corridor and closed the door. She knew that made it even more suspicious, but she did not want to talk about it right now.

"Nothing to worry yourself with, really,'' they made their way to the kitchen, where not only Sirius and Harry, but also Nymphadora, Remus and the Weasleys were also sitting at the table.

They greeted each other swiftly as Hermione sat down between Harry and Ron. Molly was her usual self, running here and there, fretting about the food and yelling at the tweens. Arthur, Sirius and Remus were discussing something, while Nymphadora was persuading Ron to dye his hair blond.

"'Mione, tell her it would be a complete disaster! Me? With blond hair? Rubbish!'' As always Ron's arms were flying everywhere while he talked, he was such a child.

"I don't know, Ron, I think you can pull it off,'' Ron glared at the curly-haired witch next to him.

"'Arry!'' Harry looked at their direction, startled and quickly excused himself from the table, apparently Ginny needed his help in the kitchen. "Traitor! That's what you are, 'Arry, a bloody traitor!''

Nymphadora and Hermione snickered beside him as the redhead boy sulked in his chair. Oh, how much she missed these moments. She was often absent during family dinners due to her job, so Hermione really appreciated such rare for her moments.

When the black wooden clock behind Sirius stroked eleven, Arthur and Molly bid them goodnight and went back to the Burrow and unexpectedly the tweens followed them. Apparently that was all it took for Ginny to blurt what she had been holding all night in.

"Malfoy has given Hermione a marriage contract.'' Hermione knew she did it, because she was worried for her and knew that the curly-haired witch would never say anything on the matter.

"You've got to be bloody kiddin' me!'' Ron yelled, startling Hermione. "The nerve that git has!''

At her other side Harry remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Did you read it, Hermione?'' Remus looked at her with something akin to sympathy. Great, exactly what she needed right now. It was enough that she simply did not dare read it, but seeing their reaction the contract itself made her want to burn the bloody thing and to never see it again.

"Not yet.'' But before someone else could ask her another question, she quickly blurted out something she usually wouldn't. "I've been wondering for the past few days, I'm not the only one amongst us, whom does not have a relationship thus is required to marry a seldom person-"

"It's not exactly seldom, more like compatible person,'' Hermione glared at Tonks, but decided to ignore her. She was _not_ compatible with Malfoy. End of discussion.

"But you're firm on discussing just my 'marriage','' she looked at them sternly, but eventually her gaze landed upon Sirius and his way to carefree attitude combined with pointedly looking everywhere else but at the people on the table. "Why don't we ask Mister Black about his verdict?'' She knew about the twins, George would be marrying the beautiful Angelina Johnson due to them getting back together after three years of constant break-ups, their engagement was three months before the Heredes Law, lucky them. Fred, on the other hand, was not in a relationship, in fact he had hardly ever dated someone, was it a women or a men, no one knew. Even George wasn't sure about Fred's preferences and every time he had decided to bring the topic up, Fred always managed to effortlessly change the subject, so it was kind of a 'finally, we know' situation when they found out that Fred Weasley would be marrying Oliver Wood. Ron on the other hand...

"' _Mione, I'll kill that git the minute I see his bloody face!''_ Ron had busted into her room the night after their letters had arrived. " _To hell with marriage! I'm going to Azkaban!''_ And continued crying his eyes out. Two hours of petting his head and promising him that she will always remain next to him as a best friend were needed for the storm to pass away.

But Sirius... Nobody had spoken about him. They were all so absorbed in their own problems, that they forgot about Sirius. From the past few years which Hermione had spent living with the man, she knew he was sort of an one-night-stand guy. He did not do relationships, actually he had no interest in them, his main reason to live was his godson and he wanted to keep it that way.

Remus looked at Sirius as if asking for permission to talk and when Sirius finally sighed and nodded his head, Remus turned to Hermione with so much tiredness in his eyes.

"We cannot find her.'' Every single person in the room except for Sirius looked at him dumbfounded.

"What do you mean you can't find her?'' Harry had entered his Auror approach if his eyebrow thing was an indication for it. "Did you search in the registers?''

"Everywhere, but with no result,'' Remus shook his head. "We just know she is a muggle-born, who got her letter for Hogwarts, but never attended it," Ron opened his mouth. "Or any magical school for that matter.''

"Surely there is more written down than that, our magical registers are updated monthly,'' Ginny really did look shocked and Hermione couldn't blame her, that was truly unbelievable.

"Well, hers is spotless like a newly bought parchment.'' Sirius said and took a quite big 'sip' from the crystal glass in his right hand, filled with fire-whiskey. "Just when she was born, where and the Hogwarts letter. No parents, no other school, no address, nothing, completely blank.''

"Why did you not tell me sooner, Sirius?'' Harry was feeling a bit agitated, why hadn't his godfather told him about this? Hermione's voice was already narrating in his mind how he was so absorbed with his problems with Ginny that it's understandable why Sirius had not shared this piece of _important_ information with him. But still...

"Because there couldn't be done a thing about it,'' Sirius ran his fingers through his black locks.

"Believe us, we tried,'' Remus put his arm in Sirius shoulder, squeezing it lightly. "There are no muggle records of her, too.''

"But if we don't find her-'' Ginny gasped.

"I won't go to Azkaban, they will just pick out some other witch, no big deal, honestly,'' Sirius rolled his eyes. He really did not wish to discuss it right now.

"But isn't it illegal to erase you record?'' Ron looked at Harry for confirmation.

"Yes, it's illegal both here and in the muggle world,'' Harry nodded, his fingers tapping his chin. "It's as if she is-"

"A ghost,'' Remus laughed. "Or a fugitive. I would initially say her to be an Unspeakable, but it's an old practice to obliterate their registers, now they're just restricted.''

"What is her name?'' Hermione spoke out for the first time since the question that started the discussion.

"Sange Marie Axton.''

"So she is French or at least a descendant of a French family?'' Ginny asked, lowering her head on Harry's shoulder.

"We thought so, too,'' Sirius sighed yet again. "But the French knew nothing of her and she clearly has an English surname. There's no reason to get your knickers in a twist, ladies and gentlemen, I shall simply enjoy my bachelor life for a bit longer.''

"Date of Birth?'' Hermione had a really nasty feeling in her gut.

"Seventh of July, 1964 in London,'' Remus inclined his head at her. "But I'm not sure we can even trust that information. Why do you ask, Hermione?''

"You can trust it. The information, I mean.'' Everybody looked at her from their seats. Dreadful shivers ran down her body. Should she tell them or not? "I-I do believe...She is my aunt.''

"Your _what_?''


	5. Invitation

**To Guest:** I 100% agree with you, I'm going to be developing the situation further in the future chapters. Ginny had grown up around boys, she had to steal their brooms to be able to fly, they always protected her as if she was a porcelain doll, but all she wanted was to be able to play with them. I'm not trying to say they were wrong or sth, just that years later she feels the need to prove to them that she can make it. She feels vulnerable with that baby, it proves that women should be protected and cared after. That baby makes her fall from the top, it's the peak of her career, she has made it, proved herself, but the problem is that people would thinks 'yes, she is a star player, but at the end, she is a woman'. It's all in her mind, I know for sure all of her brothers would encourage her for any career and will never think less of her, she will always be a rising star in their eyes. But Ginny would not feel that way on her own. Everybody has insecurities and for me these could be hers.

I'm really glad you commented about this, because nowadays many women feel weak for being able to carry a child. It's the society that makes us think that but at the end it is a personal choice, and I wished to feature it in some way in this story.

 **To** **all** **other** **reviewers** : Thank you! You make me so happy with your comments and I'd try to do my best and update as soon as possible.

* * *

"You never told us you had a bloody aunt!'' Ron crossed his arms and huffed, while Harry just raised his left eyebrow at her.

"Maybe because there is nothing to be told, Ronald!'' Hermione sighed and pressed her forehead into her palms. It was the truth. Every information she decided to tell about her aunt could end up catastrophically for both her and her parents and so many more people. Not that she knew much, but even the slightest bit of information was a death sentence.

"As we can see from her record.''

"Her magical record is not even supposed to exist.'' Hermione tried to explain, but Sirius was having none of that.

"Like her muggle non-existent one then, huh?

"Sirius!'' Remus frowned at the onyx-haired wizard, but Sirius just shrugged.

"Can't a bloke just ask, Moony? Merely curious here,'' Sirius narrowed his eyes at Hermione. "What reason could there possibly be for such confidentiality?''

"You're behaving like a petulant child, Padfoot.'' Hermione was quite sure she had never seen Remus roll his eyes at someone, but there was a first time for everything.

"Well, the witch got herself in this discussion, isn't that right, Miss _Granger?_ If that is even your real surname?'' He pursed his lips as Harry snickered to her right which earned him a slap to the back of his neck by Ginny.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Sirius, can you for at least once not be such an immature prick?''

"Said the proper prude,'' Nymphadora laughed at the bitter face Remus made, while Sirius' wolfish grin became even more mischievous.

"That's enough,'' Hermione said sternly, she had quiet the experience with such situations. "I'm obligated by a law not to speak about her, but due to the unexpected turn of events, I'll make an exception,'' Ron snorted and Hermione stomped on his foot. "I'll answer three of your questions, Mister _Black_ , and I'd expect from everybody in this room my answers to remain only between us.''

"Why had she not attended Hogwarts despite her letter?'' Sirius inclined his head after he had put his chin in his palm on the table.

"My aunt had told me that she did not feel it as her 'thing' in life, magic that is. My mother explained to me that Sange was quite the artistic soul when she was young and had more interest in drawing than in developing her magical abilities.''

"Woah, that's what I call dedication.'' Nymphadora spoke eyes cast down at the table, while Remus gripped her hand in his and squeezed lightly.

"I can't even picture something for which I would give up magic!'' Ron exclaimed, clearly putting a thought in it.

"That's because you had grown up in magical family, Ron,'' Harry offered him and Ron nodded his head uncertainly.

Sirius seemed to contemplate something on his own, but decided against it as he asked his next question.

"Does she currently live in London?''

"Yes, but she travels a lot.''

"I get the feeling as if she deals illegally with art, or forges it or both.'' Harry looked unbelievably at Ginny, she just shrugged and smiled innocently. "I may have stolen couple of Hermione's muggle criminal books through the years.''

"I knew it! I have not lost them nor had Ron stolen them.''

"I told you, woman, why on earth would I steal books from you. I don't even read this kind of stuff!'' Ron whined as Hermione apologised to him. Oops, just a small mistake on her part.

"Well, at least we know that her blank record is because of her job, whatever it is.'' Ginny yawned and leaned further back into her chair. Everybody turned to Sirius awaiting his last question.

"How can I meet her?'' To be fair, Hermione expected his last question to be more related to her job.

"You can't,'' the curly-haired witch told him bluntly. When all of them looked at her questionably, Hermione sighed and tried to explain it. "I'm quite sure she has other things on her mind especially _now_.'' She looked pointedly at Harry, but he made no indication of getting it. She could have used his help to extract herself from this current predicament.

"Well, she'd have to make some, because this law isn't going anywhere and I do not plan on being sentenced to death with whomever has been left unpaired. Because believe me, those who had remained without partners are not the pretty pictures.'' Sirius sighed dramatically as if it did physically pain him only thinking about it.

"Mostly criminals and fugitives,'' Nymphadora offered.

"Or death-eaters,'' Remus added.

"Or Dolores Umbridge!'' Ron looked way to excited for this conversation.

"Shut up, Ron!'' Hermione, Harry and Ginny said simultaneously.

"Bloody hell, keep it calm, would ya? I could've said Hagrid," the red-headed witch made a gagging sound.

"Ron, mate, seriously, this is as disgusting as disturbing.'' Harry did actually look as if he was going to be sick.

"I think we should discuss how Sirius even got paired with somebody who has an obliterated record. I mean, how did they know they're compatible?'' Nymphadora decided to put a stop on what was forming to be a long meaningless discussion on Ron's strange tastes and habits.

"Apparently criminals are made for each other,'' Ron snickered as Sirius looked at him with a raised eyebrow. The red-headed wizard raised his hand in surrender.

"My aunt is not a criminal.'' Awkward silence followed Hermione's words. "At least not anymore.''

"To me it looks like a deliberate pairing.'' Harry decided to ignore Hermione's statement.

"Harry, to you everything looks and sounds suspicious.'' Ginny had heard enough of 'Gin, don't eat this, it could be poisoned!' or 'Gin, please, don't do late-night grocery shopping, you could be attacked!''. The life with an Auror was never boring especially if said Auror was the boy who lived. Although, she did agree that there was a fishy smell around the whole pairing.

"Well, maybe if Hermione decided to enlighten us on her aunt, I wouldn't be,'' Harry told them.

"Why don't you enlighten me, Ministry bloke, how am I suppose to live with the Zabini git then?" Ron stressed out his problem from the past few days.

"I shall tell you, businessman Weasley, that I'm still figuring out about the surrogate mother situation.'' Harry said matter-of-factly. There was a clause in the Heredes Law, where if a woman is against being paired with a witch or a wizard, she could fulfil her duty with becoming a surrogate mother to at least two children. But if it was a man, he would have to be a sperm donor to at least ten couples. Harry could still remember the twenty minute tirade Hermione pulled on them for the lack of equality, as if he and Ron could change that.

Both Hermione and Harry were quite surprised when they learned that you could be paired with a person of the same sex, as gay marriage was a taboo topic in the Muggle society unlike in the Wizarding world. Hermione almost made peace with the Law just because of that until she got her own letter, of course. Ron did not came as a surprise by being bisexual for any of his friends or family, not with his last 'secret' relationship he had with a blond wizard, Alfred Derby.

"I'm done for tonight, mates,'' the red-headed man groaned. "Too much tragedy for poor Ron here, time for bed.'' Everybody just continued looking at him while he stood up and went for the door. "Up you go, people, some of us have work tomorrow.''

This time it was Harry's turn to groan which turned into an yawn as Ginny followed suit. Remus and Nymphadora also stood up and bid them their goodbyes, following the two Weasleys and Harry out of the door. Hermione was almost out of it too, but someone suddenly grabbed her elbow, turning her towards them. She came face to face with Sirius' dark grey eyes.

"Talk to her, Hermione,'' the wizard asked of her quietly. She knew where he came from, if she was paired with someone whose record was obliterated, she'd have done everything in her power to find that person. The hard thing was that she actually knew who was on the other end of Black's pairing and that made it so much more difficult.

Because his life could also end up on the front line.

"I'll try my best, Sirius,'' the young witch nodded and left the room, living him yet again alone.

* * *

A loud thunder scared the sleep away from Hermione's drooping eyes. The rain hadn't stop pounding onto the windows for hours and she had no intention in going out until it did. The young witch was sitting on the table, drinking her morning cup of her favourite cinnamon tea while reading the Daily Prophet. A robbery, two caught death-eaters, a missing girl, five new ways to start your morning without your usual cup of coffee by Mariam Biggors (there was no way that Hermione would start her day with loud classical music), a new promising singer on the horizon, voting for whether there should be extra classes at Hogwarts for foreign language of choice, some new law reforms, international affairs. In all, nothing much that could grab her attention. Nothing about the Department of Mysteries. Straux was apparently covering it perfectly.

"Ah, you bloody bird! Hermione come here!'' The witch immediately put the newspaper and her cup on the table and sprinted to the drawing room, where Sirius was have a not-so-pretty fight with a dark grey owl. And he was definitely on the losing side. "It doesn't want to give me the package,'' he growled while the owl continued hitting him on the head with its wings.

Hermione went to them, ready to shoo the owl away, but it stopped his ministrations and dropped the package in the curly haired witch's immediately outstretched arms. Afterwards it just flew away as if nothing had happened.

"Why did it came to me, when it could have just went to you in the kitchen?'' Sirius said while trying to untangle his hair, which the owl had turned almost into a nest.

"Maybe it liked you,'' Hermione laughed at him.

"That owl better keep its likes to itself!'' He huffed and went to the door. "I'm heading out, Harry won't be coming home tonight.'' Sirius winked at her as they both smirked.

The witch went for the chair in the corner of the room, where Ron usually sat sketching some of the new products for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on the black wooden desk. She sat down and put the black package on the desk, looking at it. There was no note or name on it. Just an expensive black wrapping paper. Hermione casted a few charms on it for good measures, checked for dangerous object, but none showed in the air. She sighed and decided to go for it, carefully unwrapping it.

Inside were a black box with something in French on the top and a completely black envelope with a green silk ribbon and the silver Malfoy crest on it.

Hermione so did not wish to open it.

Would it be really offensive if she owled it back to him? Who was she kidding, he was offensive to her during her whole school years, why did she care now what he would think?

But there was another problem, the witch was too curious for her own good. What could he have sent her in that big luxurious box and what had he written in that letter? Imagine her surprise then when she opened the envelope and not a letter, but a black folded card revealed itself.

An invitation.

To a ball.

The Alchemists' annual ball.

Draco Malfoy was bloody mad, that was obvious. Completely, foolishly, unbelievably mental. Hermione was certain now that she did not wish to see the content of the box. No way was she opening it.

But why did he invite her? Was it because some of the wizards in the Purpura House already knew of her due to her visitation the other day or he just wanted to have a laugh on her expense? It would be a massacre going there as his future wife especially if half of the guests knew of her as already being his wife and the other half as a muggle-born witch, who got lucky with being paired to a pureblood wizard.

No, Hermione would not think so lowly of herself. She was the brightest witch of their age. She helped defeat Voldemort, participated in it, sacrificed so much for it. She became an Unspeakable (not that wizards outside of her close friends knew of it, for them she was just a Ministry worker), she had passed her tests and Time chose _her_. S.P.E.W., outstanding N.E.W.T. scores and so much more accomplishments, how dare she stood there and feel unworthy for going to a ball?

It was a challenge and Hermione did not run from challenges.

She put down the invitation and grabbed the box. It was quite heavy. The witch opened it slowly seeing that whatever was inside was wrapped in a glowing silver paper, she opened the paper and came in contact with the finest satin material she had ever had the pleasure of touching. It looked liquid in the low light of the drawing room. Absolutely mesmerising to witness.

Hermione got up immediately so she could pull out what was in the box.

It was a dress.

Clean bateau neckline. Low cowl back adorned with tiny emeralds at the shoulders. Simple. Sharp. Elegant. Stylish. One of the most beautiful pieces of clothing she had ever seen.

All in Slytherin green.

The nerve.

Two things bothered her if the colour was not counted. The fact he felt inclined to buy her a dress as if she was not able to or perhaps he thought her fashion sense to be non-existent in the luxury department (not that she could judge him for that). And the fact he was absolutely certain that she would come to even send the dress.

And to return to the green topic. Did he seriously thought that she would go out dressed in that colour amongst some of the elite in the Wizarding society? The problem was that even if she decided to charm it to change the colour (not that she had any intention of going to the ball at all) it would ruin the material, no matter how well was the spell performed.

Something caught her attention from the bottom of the box. It was another green ribbon showing through the silver paper. Hermione wandlessly floated the paper from the box onto the desk and carefully put the dress on top of it then returned her gaze upon the box. There was another package wrapped in a black velvet material, Hermione untied the ribbon and a pair of pointed heels revealed itself.

High quality genuine snake skin, of course.

What else to be expected from a proud Slytherin? She would lie if she said she expected for him to be a little more considerate. They were supposed to be a husband and a wife, some compromise would be needed from time to time. Ah, a Malfoy, there was nothing else to say about him and his lifestyle.

At least there was no jewellery in the box. A serpent-like necklace would have been too much for her. Hermione returned the shoes in their velvet pouch, laid the dress with the silver wrapping atop of them, put the invitation in with the ribbons and closed the bloody box.

Malfoy was going to get it.

For certain.

* * *

"You sent her a green dress? Really, Draco?'' Blaise Zabini apparently viewed the whole situation as a laughing matter. The dark-skinned wizard couldn't even believe that Draco had thought it would have been a good idea. Especially as he was looking at the platinum-haired male in a burgundy suit.

If somebody had told Blaise that he would some day see Draco clothed in red, he would have laughed in their face. A ridiculous situation, indeed.

"Zabini, why are you even here in the first place?'' Draco growled at the snickering man. This was no laughing matter.

"You owled me, remember?'' Blaise wriggled his eyebrows then he took a deep breath in preparation to imitate Draco's deep voice. "'Zabini, it's an emergency!' You could have at least attached a picture to that extremely long letter of yours. Could have spared me the initial shock I got after seeing your hideous bum in these tightly fitted tailored Gryffindor pants.''

"Well then, why don't you spare me your unwanted comments and come with a solution of fixing the nasty colour of that bloody suit?'' Draco was still not sure how did he even decide to put it on. Maybe curiosity? Maybe he liked the material? Maybe he felt a little bit of guilty? Just a tiny little bit?

He knew it was not a great idea to send her that dress. But he had no other choice. Not exactly true, but there were some traditions which needed to be followed. In certain families it was a must for the male heir of the family name to clothe his future fiancée or wife in the colours of the family crest. But due to the quite big influence of the Hogwarts' houses, these days it was usually in their colours.

He owed it to his family name. At least that.

And the dress was actually nice. It would fit Granger's sharp personality like a glove. Yes, just the personality, nothing else, of course. Unlike the suit she gave him. It was made from quality fabrics, but the colour was giving him a headache.

"Red suit, mate. Where the fuck did she dig that out?'' Blaise asked what he had been just thinking. Draco looked at himself in the mirror. It fitted quite nicely, which was unexpected and he definitely wondered how she managed to get his exact size. It wasn't that ugly red per se (which could be seen on most suits in the Wizarding shops), it just didn't suit him. But a nice black coat over it would do just fine. The black shirt was comfortable and fitted him perfectly and the black leather shoes were classics, he could definitely see himself buying them. The golden bowtie was a different matter, Draco was not going to even comment on it. Definitely ripping it off.

Even the bloody socks had three tiny golden stripes on them which the tailored pants swiftly covered, no sitting for him at the ball then. Granger had definitely put some thoughts into the whole process of picking every piece of the suit.

"It says HUGO on the labels. Which I have no idea what it means.'' The blond-haired man look quizzically at the dark-haired wizard.

"Me neither, mate. Probably some muggle brand. But seems German to me and the style, too.'' Blaise said matter-of-factly while popping grape through his pursed lips.

Draco wasn't even sure what to think of Granger. Except for couple of not-so-pleasant encounters they had in school, he actually really did not know a thing about her. A muggle witch with a know-it-all sharp mouth, definitely intelligent if managing to keep the two idiots Potter and Weasley alive counts and her scores at the N.E.W.T. were brilliant. He knew through some 'connections' in the Ministry that Granger had become an Unspeakable, which was a bit unexpected, but who was he to tell.

To be honest, Draco was surprised when an owl delivered a package from her. Usually it was a tradition in some of the pureblood families to clothe their betrothed for their first public appearance. His first thought was that she was simply returning the 'favour', but that was Hermione Granger. If she was good at something that was knowing and researching everything. So she definitely knew she was also staking her claim on him in public.

It was definitely going to be an interesting ball that year.

"Draco, mate, please hide that ominous smile in the future. Somebody would think you're planning a murder. And you wouldn't want to be associated with that now, would you?'' Blaise winked at him as Draco rolled his eyes.

"So how is the family life with Weasley? Any redheads on the way?''

"Fuck you, mate. That was rude.'' The dark-skinned man threw grape at him, barely missing his left eye.

Some hexes followed afterwards until Zabini suddenly stopped and sat on Draco's bed.

"I still haven't talked to him. Not that he has initiated anything, but I am not sure how this could work.''

"Bullocks, you can make anything work, Zabini. What is this loser mood coming from you? You're one of the smartest and most handsome men I have ever seen.''

"Are these compliments that I'm smelling, huh?'' Draco hissed a quick hex and Zabini howled. "It's just... I'm everything he hates.''

"And when did you start worrying what other people thought of you?''

"At the same time you started giving relationship advices, Mister I-harass-a-girl-when-I-like-her.'' Zabini picked at his nails innocently.

"That was a low blow, Zabini.'' Draco flipped some of his locks away from his face. His hair was a real pain in the ass nowadays. A haircut was needed. "Somebody must make the first step, better sooner than later.''

"I know, man, I know.''


End file.
